


Opening Night

by handsometabbyc



Series: Welcome to Death Records [1]
Category: Phantom of the Paradise (1974)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Floyd is basicly an OC, M/M, Minor Violence, also no one dies in this, but he doesn't have lines or even a name, just putting that out there, yes he's in the movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7053922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handsometabbyc/pseuds/handsometabbyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Winslow’s accident at Death Records he withdraws to a life of solitude, essentially abandoning his music. Though dismayed at the loss of his best songwriter, Swan uses the opportunity to replace Phoenix, Winslow’s chosen star, with Beef.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“But you said I’d have the part!”

Phoenix had stormed into his office unabashedly, elbowing past anyone who tried half-heartedly to stop her, Swan staring at her with dismay from his desk.

“Winslow said that.” Swan said heavily, feeling like they were speaking about a dead man.

He flashed an apologetic smile that was more for himself then her. “…Despite what you’d liked to believe Winslow’s word doesn’t have any weight, less so now than before. And may I remind you-” He added as Phoenix groaned in frustration, “-That isn’t my fault. I gave him a chance to give his input. I even delayed production.”

“How very generous of you.” She spat out disgustedly. “Dammit Swan, he almost died.”

“…Probably a little too generous.” He said bitterly. “I delayed it because I consider him a friend and out of respect as a colleague, but I have to move on now. And what about you? Don’t act like this has anything to do with his well-being when you’re having a selfish little temper tantrum in my office about how you ‘didn’t get the part’. You’re not out, your just…in a less of a staring roll.”

He smirked in a condescending way as he continued. “Or uh… is this somehow coming from him? Has he been keeping up a line communication with you and not me?”

Her pretty face went livid with rage. “Would that be so crazy? You’ve always been so vicious, it’s a wonder you and him…” She rolled her eyes, waving a hand of dismissal. “Well, you know.”

“…Well I bet for a fact you haven’t, He went AWOL practically as soon as the doctors let him go. If he weren’t still accepting his residual checks one could easily assume he was dead. My point is: If he isn’t around to give his opinion of what to do with his music it can’t influence mine.”

“Oh I’m sure.” She quipped, though the vigor had gone from her tone. “…And I am worried about him, don’t you dare say otherwise. God knows if he’s even taking care of himself, wasting away where ever he is. I know you’re worried too. Despite going against his wishes out of what I can assume is spite.”

Swan gave her a look which she returned. It almost reminded him of the old days when the three of them would share a drink in the waning hours of the evening. It started out as business but it devolved into something more casual. She’d eventually go with whatever boyfriend she was with at the time, leaving him and Winslow alone.

“It’s not spite, its business…and I’m sure he’s fine. Winslow’s a lot more resilient then people give him credit.”

For a second she looked like she was about to leave, but spoke again with a reluctant little smile. “Could you…maybe make sure he’s alright? I haven’t been able to get in touch with him and I know you have the resources. It just kills me to wonder.”

“…I’ve been respecting his space.”

“Are you? Or are you just uncomfortable with what the accident did to him?” She said with determination.

 _And you aren’t woman?_ He almost said but thought better of it. This whole conversation already felt like it had gone on too long and he didn’t feel like extending it with another argument. “…I’ll see what I can do.” He replied.

When she left he drummed his fingers on the desk in thought. He looked up when Philbin walked in.

“Are those new flyers for next month’s opening ready? The one’s advertising Beef?”

“Yeah, the mockups anyway.”

“Excellent. I need you to have a copy sent to this address.” He jolted it down on a notepad, reading from a little gold address book, and sliding it to him.

Philbin looked at it skeptically. “Isn’t that area…kinda sketchy?”

“Total shithole.” Swan affirmed. “Just have it sent, it’s not like you have to go there yourself.”

The fact was it had been a bit of a lie when he said he was ‘respecting Winslow’s space’. He was too proud to admit it, but he’d actually tried several times, though whenever he managed to find him the bastard would change addresses. Usually to some hovel, under the assumption he would consider it above him, Swan presumed. Rather than scare him away to somewhere worse he assumed just leave well enough alone.

But maybe Phoenix was right, maybe he should try to reach out…even if it meant getting creative.

———————————————————-

When weeks had passed and nothing happened, Swan started to worry that he’d moved again, or something worse.

But he finally showed up one day out of the blue. Swan had sent everyone else away so he could wander on his own around the paradise, when a hooded figure ambushed him from the shadows, holding a knife to his throat. After a moment of confused panic he realized who it was.

“W-winslow?” He said hopefully.

Without stepping away, Winslow pushed back his hood revealing his haggard face.  
Swan couldn’t help the horrified expression that came across his face. “…Christ, you look awful.”

Winslow snarled, recoiling away. He still wore the voice box he made for him but it didn’t seem to be working, Swan noted.

“Don’t go, I didn’t mean that, I was just surprised…I-it’s so good to see you. Everyone worried honestly, the other day Phoenix and I were just-

Winslow tried to retort at the mention of Phoenix but a horrible electronic disturbance shrilled in its place. Swan watched with uncomfortable amusement as he desperately tried to adjust it. “…I could fix that for you.” He said after a moment.

Winslow lunged at him again, barring the knife to his throat again, but Swan just laughed. “What good is killing me going to do when I don’t even know what you’re mad at me for? Let me fix the device and we can talk.”

Winslow dropped the hand that held the knife to his side, relenting.

They went to an electronic maintenance room, and Swan gestured to a chair for him to sit. He detached the device and started fiddling with it, muttering as he did, occasionally looking up at Winslow eagerly.  
“I know you’re mad at me but ugh…it’s good to see you. Have you been alright?”

Winslow gave him a scalding look, accompanied by a little ‘hurry up’ hand motion.

“Sorry, I guess I uh, forgot for a second. I’m glad you’re still using this by the way, how long has it been broken…?”

Winslow was giving him another silent angry look.

He laughed sheepishly. “…There I go again.” His smile died, and he continued to work.

He finished, replacing the cover, and hooked it back up. “Now, try that.”

“Crooked bastard.”  
Swan winced adjusting it. “Again?”  
“Crooked fucking bastard.” Winslow barked out.

That’ll do.” Swan said, ignoring the harsh words. “Now that’s dealt with, now what was it that you wanted to talk about-”

“You know damn we’ll you insolent prick.” Winslow snarled, grabbing the front of his shirt. As Swan was retched from his seat he disturbed several objects on the table including a suturing iron that jabbed his hand.

“Fuck!” Swan said, clutching the injured hand impulsively.

“You know damn fucking well.”

Getting angry, Swan grinned viciously at that, like a dog baring it's teeth. “I see you got my message.” He replied, trying to wriggle free, trashing like a snake. “…I had to make a decision, you weren’t there. You weren’t fucking there.”

Swan finally wretched away, managing to get out of the room before Winslow caught up with him, roughly grabbing the hand that he’d accidentally burnt and roughly twisting it around, evoking a scream of pain from Swan. The sound of footsteps came thundering sounded up the halls.

“Weasel, you know what I fucking wanted. You know exactly what I wanted.” He angrily said.

“You completely disappeared, I thought you abandoned the project. I made a judgement call…” Swan said through gritted teeth. Floyd and a couple of lackeys finally reached them and pulled Winslow off him, dragging him away.

Swan sat crouched on the floor, clutching his hand. Floyd stooped over him to examine him but at his touch Swan started and angrily slapped his hand away. “Leave me alone and go fucking make sure those idiots don’t hurt him!”

When Floyd came back Swan was standing in front of a mirror fussing with his hair and clothes, the burn on his hand gone. He looked up at him eagerly. “Is he alright?”

“Yes, unfortunately. Sir if I may…”

“No you may not.” Swan snapped, turning his attention back to his fussing, but Floyd pressed on.

“I just think you should at least contact the police, or you know…deal with him.”

“That won’t be necessary. Winslow and I always argue, It’s just like old times.”

“These are different circumstances.” Floyd said with a stern tone. “What if he does something rash?!”

“What? No. It was just a momentary loss of composure. Besides…” Swan continued in a low tone with a wink. “…Between you and me it’s not like whatever he might do is gonna kill me.”

“There’re other things he can do besides go after you.” Floyd said with a tense tone. “I know you don’t like to consider it but could cause a lot of shit.”

Swan sighed, tiredly looking at his own reflection. “…I’ll think of something.”


	2. Chapter 2

He’d gotten Swan’s “message” (as Swan put it) three weeks ago, in the form of a slap dash looking Xerox of a flyer he discovered slipped under his front door, though he didn’t know it had any personal agenda attached to it at the time. It was an advertisement for the grand opening of The Paradise, lauding someone or something called ‘Beef.’

Who the hell is Beef? He’d pondered with a frown. And wasn’t Phoenix supposed to star in the opening of the paradise?

Knowing how Swan was he knew it was an unfortunate possibility, but it was something he’d accepted. After the accident he couldn’t bear to work on it anymore, let alone face any of his old friends. Maybe if it was just his face…but the voice box Swan had made for him made him sound like some kind of monster.

Swan’s eager little expression when he gave it to him, like he was gifting him with some great fucking prize didn’t help either.

_“Go on, say something.” Swan had urged him._

_“Swan, I don’t think…” He said reluctantly, face contorting in horror at the sound._

_He could see the look of discomfort and the strained smile that Swan was trying to keep._

_“…Maybe I can improve it, I-“_

_“Thanks, you’ve done enough.” He said in a sullen tone through the voice box, avoiding Swan’s eye’s that were searching for some kind of gratitude from him, but he was too angry at the time too humor him with any._

The reality of what happened hit him like a ton of bricks. It was really happening, Swan was going on without regard of what he wanted. He shouldn’t have cared, he tried not to, but it put something into motion inside him. It awoke a bitterness that ate away at him over the next few of weeks until he couldn’t stand it.

He had to see for himself, what things had come to. He knew it would make things worse, but he just had too. As he suspected, Beef was a commercial piece of swill, but what he didn’t expect to see was him cozying up to Swan like a cheap schmuck.

It was sickening, the way beef touched him when they thought they weren’t being watched. it made him grateful anything him and Swan had had been…well he wasn’t sure what they’d had, but sex was sex, and he was certainly something he’d never let Swan manipulate him with.

He’s too good for you creep. He found himself thinking at beef before he could remind himself he didn’t care.

But he wasn’t very good at reminding himself, maybe that’s why he gave up the safety of the shadows so he could confront Swan, about how much he’d ruined his music with commercial pop music shit gimmicks that is.

And the fucker had the nerve to actually look happy to see him.

Maybe that’s why he said the horrid things had, did what he did.  
When Swan’s lackeys let him go he bolted as far away as he could, terrified. He knew Swan had called them off, but what if he changed his mind? He wouldn’t blame him, Oh god why had he done and said those awful things?

 _He didn’t respect the music_ , A cold voice in the back of his head replied, _All he cares about are charts and profit._

“Shut up!” Winslow hissed, flailing at the empty air, earning a couple of odd looks in the hall outside his shitty apartment. He had been in the middle of trying to find his key. He quickly found it and darted into it’s sanctuary.

“Shut up…” He muttered, sliding down the door, hugging his knees.

 _All he cares about is profit_ , the voice repeated, _and Beef_.

Beef, thought Winslow again with dismay, pulling himself up and dragging his aching body to the kitchen. God dammit he needed to eat. He looked forlornly at the contents of the refrigerator, which aside from an old bottle of mustard consisted mainly of a lone three day old carton of Chow Mein. Oh well, food was food.

Not that he cared about whatever liaisons Swan had, even with a creep like beef who didn’t deserve the time of day from Swan. The fact was Swan ‘consorted’ with all sorts of folks, so why should he care?

He never really considered his attraction to Swan valid anyway. Sure, he could admit that his appearance could be described as…breath taking, almost unreal, but that was only because he was a beautiful person. Winslow reasoned beautiful men were beautiful regardless, thus certain occasions with them didn’t count.

The microwave chimed and he retrieved the carton, perching on a bar-stool next to the counter, staring vacantly ahead as he ate. God dammit Swan had looked beautiful today.

\-----------------------------------------------

**Three days later (One week from opening night)**

They were rehearsing for the big opening show, and Phoenix kept shooting Swan angry little looks from the stage as Beef tried to get through ‘Old Souls.’

The shit, the little fucking shit. She though. ‘ _You can sing it better than any bitch?!’_ How dare he.

She was brought out of her resentful thoughts at the sound of beef going down with a mighty crash as he was showily made his way across the stage. He was currently trying to right himself like a tortoise stuck on its back.

“Who says I can’t sing it?!?” Beef declared when he finally pulled himself up.

“I like it, keep working on it. Drop an octave, change a line or two, give it a beat…make it completely yours.” Swan flashed smug little smile, before turning on his heels and leaving.

“What are you doing?” Floyd muttered as they walked away, edging close to him.

“She’s pissing me off.” Said Swan. “Thinks she can try and boss me around, did you notice the way she was looking at me?!“

"It was hard to miss.”

I’m the boss god dammit.” Swan continued. “Me! I don’t stand for this bullshit.”

“Swan, if I may…” he said, and Swan threw up a hand in frustration.

“Christ, what?” He muttered reluctantly.

“Your making this personal. I wouldn’t say anything if it was just about Phoenix, but I get the impression it’s not.“

"This isn’t about Winslow!” Swan hissed a little too strongly before correcting himself. “I mean…It’s not.”

“Speaking of Winslow, what if he decided to come back? Do you want to make him angrier? Because you know it would.”

“Don’t be stupid Floyd, you and my men scared him off, he wouldn’t be here.”

“Again, we didn’t have a choice, don’t you remember what he did?” Floyd reminded him.

“I don’t like thinking about things that make me uncomfortable.” Swan said airily, glancing at his fingernails."You know that.”

“…I just think you should be careful.” Floyd replied. “Winslow’s stubborn, I don’t take him as one to shy away just like that.”

Swan scoffed. “It’s not yours job to shill out advice.”

“What are you going to do, fire me?” Floyd said ominously, a twitch of a smile flitting on his lips, a small allowance in his stony demeanor.

Swan eyed him with wearily. “Sometimes I wish I could.“

 


	3. Chapter 3

While Winslow wasn’t there to hear the things Swan had said, he was indeed back at The Paradise. Keeping in the shadows, keeping hidden.  
He didn’t know whether him staying hidden was to his own credit or Swan’s lackeys being bad at their job. It even gave him pause for concern at Swan’s safety.

…Or Phoenix’s for that matter. Presently he was sitting in Phoenix’s dressing room, sitting sullenly in her chair. Not that it I was weird that he was here, he used to do this sort of thing all the time after shows, but what if it was some sort of unsavory type? Maybe he’d just gotten that good at being sneaking around but it had been far too easy to slip in here. If it were him he’d do a serious revamp of security around here.

But he was alright here, he reassured himself. Swan’s brief mention of Phoenix being worried had gotten to him, drew him back. Of course she would be worried, and she’d defiantly be glad to see him.

Waiting like this reminded him of way back when, when  he had a tradition of waiting for her in her dressing room or backstage. He’d always bring sunflowers because they were her favorite. He only brought one this time because well…flowers were hard to sneak around with and one still counted didn’t it?

He smiled a bit at the thought. He’d met Phoenix at one of those small shows she did when she was first starting out. It had been a couple of years ago, shortly after Swan had begrudgingly hired him and he dragged him to it to ‘scope for talent’…

——————————–

“This feels pointless.” Winslow said heavily. He was siting at a little table with Swan and Philbin, towards the back of the room where they wouldn’t draw attention.

“Hey you wanted to be kept in the loop.” Swan said, an open newspaper in hand. “This is the loop. Looking for diamonds in the rough that just need a little…polishing. That’s how I found the juicy fruits. Which I still think…”

“Here we go again.” Muttered Winslow.

“Hey I grew up with that sort of music, it’s solid.” Swan said defensively. “It’s golden.”

“Aren’t you twenty something Swan? I’d have thought it’d be a bit before your time.” Winslow said with amusement.

“Maybe my daddy was nostalgic or something.” Swan said in a controlled easy tone, though he shifted uncomfortably. He probably didn’t like crowds, Winslow assumed, not that he blamed him. “You don’t know me. Anyway, just enjoy the show, you can watch other people embarrass themselves on that stage instead of yourself.”

“I never performed in this shithole.” Winslow retorted, and Swan chuckled.

“Well maybe not this one, but you know what mean.” Swan said. A new singer walked on the stage and the opening notes of ‘Maybe this time’ from ‘Cabaret’ started. “Christ, two minutes in the big time and your already a snob–”

“Listen.” Winslow interrupted, eye’s on the singer. Swan turned a little to see who he was transfixed on.

_“…Not a loser, any more, like the last time and the time before,”_

It was Phoenix, wearing an eye-shadow and some flashy clothes that didn’t really flatter her, but her voice…it was perfect for his music.

_“Everybody, loves a winner, so no body loved me. Lady peaceful, lady happy, that’s what I long to be…”_

“…I’ve never really been much of a Cabaret fan,” He was vaguely aware of Philbin stating as Phoenix continued to sing. “…I mean Liza’s alright looking, but she has crazy written all over. Just like her Ma.”

“…What the hell did I say about insulting Judy in front of me Philbin?” Swan answer absently. “She’s a legend, an American treasure.”

The lack of venom he usually had about the subject of Ms.Garland caught Winslow’s attention. He stole a look at Swan hoping that he was just as taken with Phoenix as he was, but discovered the man was watching him now instead of Phoenix.

Swan smirked sheepishly at the confused look Winslow must’ve been giving him, looking away. He was imagining things, Winslow remembered thinking at the time. It was a little amusing in hindsight how quick he was to dismiss it, but then again he wasn’t used to people looking at him like that.

‘I like the look you get on your face when inspiration hits.’ Swan had said when Winslow asked much later. ‘…You look like you’re in your own little world, and I can’t help but wonder what you’re thinking.’

But he wasn’t concerned about that then, he was too preoccupied with how perfect Phoenix was for his music.

“She’s good…isn’t she?” Swan said, saying the question he himself was about to ask.

Winslow fumbled for words. “…You could say that. Better than good.” He finally managed.

Swan tusked and gave him a playful nudge. “What did I tell you? Told you you might find what you were looking for.”

“There’s no need to be smug about it.” Winslow said begrudgingly. “So what do you think? Professionally I mean?”

“I think we’ll be able to figure something out.” Swan said with a shrug. “She’s not who I’d peg as a top seller but she’s got a nice sound.”

There was a sprinkle of applause as the song ended and he took it as his cue to get up, pushing past people to the backstage area where Phoenix was.

“Excuse me,” He said. She looked up in mild surprise and he smile apologetically. “You were great out there. My boss has been dragging me around looking for new talent and your voice…it’s really a breath of fresh air.”

She gave him a tired look. “Whose you’re boss, Phil Spector?” She quipped.

Winslow beamed a little, ignoring the sarcasm. “Swan.” He whispered excitedly. He loved being able to say that. “My boss is Swan.”

Phoenix scoffed. “Even better. Listen, I’m not one of those dumb floozies who will…”

“Oh no no no…” Winslow said quickly. “This isn’t that, I really do work for Swan. I was looking for a voice for my music, and with a little vocal training…I think you’d be perfect.”

She chuckled. “Well I believe that when I see it.”

“That’s understandable.” He grimaced a little. “Seriously, guys try that?”

“Hey, guy’s try anything. And Swan’s an easy con because–“

“…No one’s really sure what he looks like, right.” Winslow chuckled. “I couldn’t really pull that off though, him being a little on short side.”

She laughed. “…The rumors leave that part out.”

He took out a card, handing it to her. “I have to dash, but call the number on this card and well…we’ll work something out.”

“Alright then.” She said with a grin. “I’ll be sure to uh…call your bluff on that.”

——————————–

The smile that he wore from the memory slowly faded when he caught sight of his face in the mirror. What the hell was he doing here? He was just going to send her screaming just showing up here like this. He couldn’t have that, especially after the trouble he’d caused with Swan.

He got up, contemplating the sunflower in his grasp, and set it down on the counter, scrawling a note on a scrap of paper.

Phoenix came in in later, feeling annoyed by Swan, though she quickly forgot  when she set here eyes on the single sunflower. She picked up the note, eagerly reading it.

_‘Sorry I haven’t been around, -W’_

She cried out excitedly, bursting out of the dressing room, looking down both ends of the hall.

“Winslow?” She called out, face falling when she saw nothing. She leaned against the door frame, hugging herself. “…God dammit.” She muttered dispiritedly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there was such a long wait for this one, I moved recently and don't have internet in the new place yet.

**Same day...**

After fleeing Phoenix's dressing room, Winslow made his way around the paradise, not quite ready to leave just yet. the sound of laughter caught his attention. Beef he thought, with mild disgust.

He stole across the hall to listen better and tucked himself behind a clothing rack. Seemed fitting that Swan would be attracted to him, they were both pieces of shit. He smirked at the idea, but was soon jolted out of his bitter amusement at the crash of a bottle against the wall.

“ ...'The hell is this swill?!” Beef called out to gofer who skittered off.

\----------------------------------------------

In his dressing room Beef sighed, shutting his eyes in annoyance. “Morons, everyone’s a fucking moron.” He might be a little high, but even high he knew how inferior champagne tasted like.

Philbin appeared in his dressing room door. “Is something wrong?” He said with a tried tone.

“You think you can pull the wool over my eyes with this corner mart shit?” Beef managed to slur out. “Inferiority is not my forte.”

“I wouldn’t expect such big words from you.” Philbin’s round meaty face pinched in a look of mock surprise. “Very impressive, hope you didn’t strain yourself.”

Beef shot him a withering look. “Why don’t you shove a couple more of those lardo burgers you like so much into your yapper and drop fucking dead.”

“Just…just keep it together, alright?”

“I’ll do exactly what I want.” Beef said dismissively. Philbin didn't respond but shot him an annoyed look as he left.

Curtis, Beef’s friend who had been sitting in the corner chuckled at that, and Beef shot him a cunning look.

“So is it really true?” Curtis asked.

Beef smirked. “That I can do what I want?”

“No…what you were bragging about a last night. With Swan.”

“Oh, that.” He said dryly. “Yes."

“Whoa, that must’ve been something.” Curtis guffawed. “The actual Swan, the legend.”

“Sure, his work’s alright.” Beef said casually.

“I mean, the rumors about the orgies every night, the man is a sex god!” Curtis smirked a little and added, “I wouldn’t have guessed he’d play for both teams, but lucky you, am I right?”

Beef gave a sharp mocking laugh. “Are you kidding me? The twerp was lucky to have me. He’s no sex god, believe me.”

“What are you talking about?” Curtis said with disbelief.

“I’m talking about orchestration, fabrication, an act to make him look good. In actuality he’s just a creepy pasty shrimp with a napoleon complex and a lot of power.”

Curtis scoffed at the absurdity of it, wonderment wearing off and being replaced by morbid curiosity. “Is that so?”

Beef smirked, goaded on by his friend’s attention. The fact was, Swan wasn’t that bad. For one he had the benefit of knowing what he was doing when it came to sex with men, and for another he was cute enough for it not to be too much of a chore. But the fact was 'he was okay, but not great' didn’t make the best story.

“You know why he doesn’t want anyone to photograph him?” Beef continued, “…He looks like that one inbred cousin you always see at everyone’s family reunion. It doesn’t matter how much you pay for clothes you can’t escape low class.”

\---------------------------------------------

...He deserved it, Winslow tried to remind himself miserably as he trembled in anger, but the thought was no match for the hot rage that grew in his belly as he clutched and unclutched his fist.

“…But you know, you gotta do what you gotta do.” He heard Beef continued with amusement.

Winslow turned away, unable to listen to anymore. He had to put some distance between him and beef before he did something stupid. Gotta do what you gotta do? He thought. How dare he, how dare he talk that way about the privilege of gracing the private company of his Swan-

His Swan? He thought with dismay, stopping and leaning against the wall to contemplate his own thought. ‘His Swan,’ the smug bastard chomping on a cigar as he told him ‘about the way it was.’

His Swan, the techno geek that got that almost mad look in his eyes when fiddling with a sound board, irritatedly swiping his hair out of his face until he eventually tied back with an elastic.

‘His Swan,’ a phrase that embodied the ‘private lunches’ and ‘late night shifts’ and the occasional limo flings, occasions melding together in a tangle of limbs and mingling of hot breath and desperation until there was a loss of self, only them.

All long left behind in what felt like another life, but not forgotten.

Lord he wished he could forget. Forget the way Swan made him feel important and sexy, the way he looked at him, the way he touched him…  
Maybe it was all manipulation, just another way for Swan to get what he wanted, but it really didn’t matter. He could pretend it wasn’t, back then.

But he couldn’t pretend that now so much, he contemplated as he gently touched his face. He didn't want to try to go back to it after the accident though, he couldn’t bear the possibility Swan not wanting him like before. Or worse, not being able to believe it away like before.

Then again, what if he still had had a chance?  He recalled the way Swan looked at him when he came back, that look of elation that made him so mad…why had it made him mad? His heart sank a little at the realization. Why did he have to push him away?

“I’ll catch you later,” He heard Curtis say, jarring him from his self-pitying thoughts. He looked up to see the young man ambling down the hallway, hands shoved in his pocket. Winslow sighed, collecting himself.

Bit by bit he felt his composure coming back, but then Beef’s haggard singing fell on his ears and it all fell away in hot blinding rage.

 _He’s singing Phoenix’s songs, defiling your music, just like he defiled your man with his disrespect_ , an angry little voice in his head whispered.

He angrily stormed back, drawn to the music but for all the wrong reasons

Beef, dressed in a robe looked up in surprise at the hooded figure bursting into his dressing room. “Holy fucking mother of shi—“ he was cut short by Winslow clutching him by the throat, slamming him against the wall, never minding the full length mirror there that cracked with the impact.

“Never sing my music again. My music is for Phoenix only, only she can sing it. Anyone else who tries, dies.” He snarled, setting an angry pitch to the electronic voice.

Beef gasped wordlessly, nodding, and Winslow let go of him, stealing away as he crumpled to the floor.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Philbin was casually talking with Swan's secretary when a disheveled looking Beef clutching a hastily packed suit case caught their attention.

"Where's he running off to?" She asked in amusement.

"I'll deal with it," Philbin said with dismay, hurry off after him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Philbin demanded.

“Away but here.” He said determinedly, “That psycho isn’t worth the paycheck.”

“What are talking about? What psycho?”

“Winslow Leach that’s what.” He blurted out. “That songwriter of yours, he’s gone mental. Slammed me into a mirror so hard it broke it, telling me not to sing his music, with threats if death.  I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Swan when he said that fucking nut wasn’t going to bother me about that…”

Philbin scoffed, checking outside the hallways, seeing nothing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. How high are you right now?”

Beef looked up in horror. “What? No…I was attacked, I didn’t imagine it. I wasn’t imagining it, this was a very real physical force.”

“Okay, maybe it was by someone but it sure wasn’t Winslow, he hasn’t showed his face here for months.” Philbin nonchalantly checked the back of his head. “No real harm done, maybe you’ll need couple of stitches. You don’t need to be embarrassed, we all have bad trips.”

“…S-should I go to a hospital?” Beef said shakily, accepting a couple of pills that Philbin was doling out to him.

“Naw, no hospital will be necessary, we have a nurse on call who’ll fix you up.” Philbin said consolingly, ushering him back to his dressing room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can't tell I got a little attached to Floyd. I keep wondering if I'm going to far with him, like just making things overly complicated? Please let me know, or anything else regardless, I'd love the feedback!

“…Of course I didn’t leave it there.” Swan said with frown at Phoenix, who was standing there with the battered sunflower she’d found in her dressing room. “I would’ve gone with roses. They may be cliché but people go gaga over roses.”

“…Winslow used to bring me them, he thought they were my favorites for some reason…I guess I never really had the heart to correct him.” She looked at him critically. “What I want to know is if you put it there to taunt me.”

“What, because you asked me to find him?” He said mockingly. “I have better things to do. He was here the other day though, so it could’ve been him.”

“He was? You little sneak, why didn’t you tell me?” Phoenix said, outrage in her tone. Before he could answer Philbin stormed in.

“Please tell me everything’s going smoothly.” Swan said with dismay.

“Oh, everything’s gonna be fine, your super star is just acting up a little is all. The usual prima donna crap…he kinda lost it at one point and hurt himself though.”

“How so?” Phoenix said with her large bewildered doe-like eyes. “Is he sick? Cause I can go on instead-“

“Phoenix.” Swan prompted. “You can go now. Floyd if you’d please show Ms. Phoenix out…”

“I going, I’m going…” She said exasperatedly, giving the large yellow flower a dismissive shake towards Swan, mouthing ‘This isn’t over’ over Philbin shoulder at him.

Swan watched her leave before turning to Philbin. “…How so?” he asked, repeating Phoenix’s question.

“…Banged the back of his head on a mirror. You know how Beef is, always spouting nasty shit. I think he might’ve insulted the wrong person and when they attacked him he might’ve been high enough to believe it was Winslow. If there was anyone there at all.”

“Well you can’t say he’s not creative.” Swan remarked, ignoring the look Floyd was giving him. “How does he look?”

“Just needs a couple of stitches, I contacted that fella we have on call…”

“No, send him to St. Vincent’s hospital to make sure he’s alright.”

“But Swan, the show…”

“If he drops dead from a damn head injury tomorrow it’s going to be a hell’va lot worse for the show.” Swan said, annoyance creeping in his voice.

“I’m just saying, it didn’t look that bad...”

“What the hell did I just say?” Swan snapped.

“Yes sir.” Philbin relented, lumbering off.

When he was gone Swan slumped, rubbing his temple as Floyd stepped out of the shadows. “It…it really might’ve not been him.” Swan said to him.

“All indication’s point that way.” Floyd said solemnly.

“What, because of the flower thing?” Swan retorted. “He could’ve had that sent, or it could’ve been some creep--"

“I told you before,” Floyd interrupted him. “…He was probably going to come back.”

Swan just sat there silently, hopeless look in his eyes.

“It’s easy enough to figure out.” Floyd continued. “If anything happened we’d have caught it on camera. Do you want to check?”

Swan chuckled. “You might as well, I’m far too busy and you know all this place’s dirty secrets, including mine.”

Floyd could hear the strain in Swan’s voice, and as he passed him on his way to the door he placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright.” He said gently. “I’m on it.”

“Whatever happens, please…don’t hurt him.” Swan said. The statement made him feel desperate, but he couldn’t help it.

“you know It’s my job to protect you...everything else comes second.” Floyd said.

Swan snarled, shrugging away the hand. “Get out of my fucking sight.”

\----------------------------------

**Twenty some years ago…**

“Sir, there’s a man to see you.” His assistant told him. Swan was at home, the whirs and poundings of construction coming from a nearby room in the mansion. He figured it was about time for a bit of restoration along with a few updates to the turn of the century relic.

Swan smirked a little. “A man? Is there a name or something attached to this fella?”

“He wouldn’t say his name, he insisted on just talking to you.”

“And you let him in?” Swan said with growing alarm. “What’s wrong with you…”

The sound of sharp deliberate footsteps interrupted him. A well-dressed dark skinned fellow with a goatee and slicked back hair approaching them, an unreadable look on his face.

“…Letting perfect strangers just waltz in.” Swan said weakly. At that his assistant walked away and Swan gestured helplessly. “Wait don’t just go…”

“I told him I wanted to speak to you alone.” The man said. “We have sensitive topics to discuss.”

“And he listened to you?”

“I’m very persuasive.” The man said. “I’ve always been good at knowing the right things to say. But anyway... I’m here on behalf of a mutual friend.”

“Mutual friend? ...Did my daddy owe you money or something?” Swan chuckled, shaking his head. “Son of a bitch has been dead ten years and I’m still cleaning up the mess he made.”

“I assure you this has nothing to do with him. I’m here about you, the name's Floyd Shepard.”

“Well, Mr. Shepard…”

“Please, just call me Floyd.”

“Floyd.” Said Swan with a patient tone. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You recently fired your bodyguard. I’m his replacement. Courtesy of your boss. Well…our boss.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Swan dismissed. “Unless you mean…”

Floyd grimaced, nodding a little. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Christ.” Swan said shakily, running his fingers through his hair, which was short back then. He looked Floyd up and down. “You don’t look like a Satanist.”

“Neither do you.”

“It was a slip of judgement…I was high. What’s your excuse?”

“Poverty …and desperation.” He answered. “Sick kid sister.”

“Oh…” Swan said, flabbergasted. “That’s uh…certainly more noble.”

“It was what it was.” Floyd replied hollowly, a heaviness in his tone.

“Well I’m sorry about that, you seem like a nice guy…but like I said, I don’t need the uh…boss to hire me protection, I’d prefer to have my own say in the matter.”

“Boss doesn’t see it that way. He’s worried you don’t have the best sense of judgement. That you’ll make the wrong call when it comes time to make tough decisions.”

“That sounds a little too much out of my control for my taste.” Said Swan testily.

“I’m no nanny.” Floyd said with scorn. “I’m not here to control, just protect. You just don’t control me.”

“I have the right…”

“You don’t, remember?” Floyd said. “You gave that up remember? For what, because you didn’t want to get old-“

“I wasn’t of sound mind.” Swan protested, backing away like a caged dog. “And nineteen. Nineteen! There should be a rule…” He dramatically flopped down on a nearby leather couch, covering his eyes. “…Christ the bastard could’ve at least waited a couple of years. At least I might’ve been taller.”

He felt the couch shift as Floyd sat next to him. “Based on what I heard he had to act fast.”

Swan lifted a hand from his face looking at him with mild surprise. “Well…aren’t you well informed.”

Floyd smiled coyly. “I took the time to read your contract, it certainly was memorable. A kid talented beyond his years wanting to giving it all away in the name of shallow arrogance.”

“So my stupidity made me memorable?” Swan muttered. “Christ, thanks…”

“Your redeemability more so, or how the boss found you to redeemable for that matter. Worth saving from immediate damnation: a man of power, of influence. That’s what caught my interest.”

Swan scoffed. “I wasn’t…the bastard didn’t save me. The very opposite.”

“The way I see it,” Floyd said lowly. “We aren’t damned as long as were still up here, and I don't know...maybe a chance for real redemption. With you I'd at defiantly the have time to figure that out."

“Wishful thinking...besides, if the man downstairs were to choose me for my influence, and I say if…you know that doesn’t speak so highly about me.” He gave a coy little smile. “After all, I didn’t get where I am by being nice.”

Floyd scoffed. “Don’t let the sick sis thing fool you…neither did I.”

Swan grinned. “…I think we might get along just fine then Floyd.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Floyd fast forwarded through the footage covering Beef’s dressing room, pausing at intervals before plunging back forward. He was about to continue when something beef said caught his attention.

“… Well you know, you gotta do what you gotta do…” he heard him say with a prideful tone.

Floyd frowned, rewinding the tape back. His dismay grew as he watched up until the point where Winslow went barreling back and went after Beef.

Floyd stopped the tape, staring ahead numbly. It would’ve been one thing if Winslow was just lashing out at beef because of the music…but this complicated things.

Part of him related to it, over the years he’d gotten protective of Swan, and not just because of the job. He’d grown fond of him, coming to think of him as something of a little brother.

Reaching a decision, he removed the tape replacing it with a new one.

\----------------------------------------------

Swan looked up with eager eyes when he returned. “Was it…?”

Floyd took a moment before speaking. “…It was, but don’t worry about it.”

“That could mean anything.” Swan said, growing annoyed. “Be specific.”

“It means we don’t need to worry about him.” Floyd assured him. “He isn’t a threat, for now.”

“ ‘a threat’. Christ, you don’t have to sound so cold about everything. It’s Winslow for Pete’s sake.”

“…I know.” Floyd said solemnly. “I grew fond of him myself…that’s what makes all of this so hard, so necessary to be clinical.”

“Goofy bastard won us all over.” Said Swan wistfully.


	6. Chapter 6

“These came for you.” Philbin said as he set a vase with a dozen roses on beef’s dressing room table. “From Swan.”

Beef, who’d been sitting solemnly in his dressing room plucked a little gold and white embossed card from the arrangement and studied it.

 _'Get Well, -Swan'_ it read. “...He can’t come to deliver them himself?” Beef said with a little pout.

“He busy. And why would you care?” Philbin asked critically.

“…I don’t. The flower’s are nice anyway. And at least he gave a shit about my well being.” He said pointedly. “I told you it was a good idea to go to the hospital.”

“I made a judgement call alright?” Philbin said defensively. “You know hospitals, you go in there for a broken thumb and they keep you there a week for no reason. I could’ve been doing you a favor.”

“Yours is truly the bleeding heart.” Beef drawled. “Anything else? No creepy boxes from a not so secret unadmirer?”

“I thought we discussed…”

“I know what we discussed.” Beef said with a tired smile. “It was a joke. If I believed my life was in any peril I’d be long gone, no matter what you said. I don’t take threats lightly you see.”

Philbin gave him a withering look before leaving. Beef sat there a moment, then glanced out in the hallway for what felt like the hundredth time that day to make sure one of Swan’s motorcycle thugs was still standing guard and sighed in relief. Maybe he agreed with Philbin, he was a little coked up at the time after all, but a paranoia still lingered.

He picked up the phone, punching in some numbers, staring vacantly ahead before plastering on a smile. “Hey, its beef. I got the flowers…Yeah, they’re gorgeous, so sweet of you. Would’ve been better if you brought them yourself. Too busy for me?”

\---------------------------

“…Yes, I am in fact, sorry.” Swan said wearily. “…Maybe later, maybe. Rest yourself alright?” Swan hung up the phone. He looked up at Floyd’s questioning eyes that seemed to burn from the shadows like white embers.

“What? ” Swan asked defensively. “If he weren’t spooked about his little incident he wouldn’t be calling, he doesn’t really like me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true…” Floyd said lowly.

“Its fine, I’m not that into him anyway either, I just slept with him because he’s…you know, tall and dark blond like… you know...” He said wistfully, not bothering to finish the statement in favor of barreling on into the next one. “My point I can tell the difference, you can hear it in their voice, the fakeness.”

“Well you are a producer. Bringer and destroyer of dreams.” Floyd drawled.

“People can be attracted to powerful people, it still counts as attraction.” Swan insisted, staring proudly off into the distance.

Floyd notice one of Swan's lackies at the door. “I’ll be right back.”

“Any sign of him?” Floyd hissed when he’d stepped out of the room.

“No sign sir.” The man muttered, and Floyd growled in frustration.

“Ain’t that what you wanted?” the man asked, “Him gone?”

“Just because you didn’t find him doesn’t mean he’s gone.” Floyd said. “I think I know where to track him down though.”

\---------------------------------------------

Floyd hammered on the door of an apartment, Winslow’s apartment, sighing and looking down the hall. It was a different place then where they’d delivered the flyer, and he couldn't help but wonder how he’d moved so fast.

The door opened and Winslow looked out with wide spooked eyes. Floyd raised his brow questioningly.

“How do you people keep finding me?” Winslow said with disbelief.

“Swan has his ways of keeping track of you. You think one of the most powerful man in the city wouldn’t be able to do that?”

“Did you come here for a reason, or just to show me you could?” Winslow growled. “Some gesture of intimidation?”

Floyd frowned a little. “I know your hurting son but you don’t need to talk to me like that. I just want to help.”

“Help?” Winslow said confusedly fingers curling around the door.

“You crossed a line.” Floyd said with a helpless shrug. “Won’t you let me in? Maybe we can talk.”

“…I guess.” Winslow said reluctantly, stepping aside to let him in. Floyd glanced around the cramped apartment, eyes falling on a couch, and sat down.

“Make yourself at home.” Winslow quipped, siting down himself. “Is this about Swan? I’m sorry about before I didn’t mean…”

“Partially, but we'll get to that. I’m here because I saw you threatened beef.”

“I didn’t-“

“Save it, Swan has the place bugged.” Floyd interrupted him. “We saw everything. Well…I saw everything. I got too it before Swan did.”

“You did?” Winslow said shakily. “I can explain…”

“You don’t need to, like I said…I saw everything.” Floyd said calmly. “Not just you, but Beef. I may not agree with your tactics, they were impulsive and irresponsible, but I understand the reaction. Swan’s special, he deserves to be treated special.” Floyd’s nostrils flared up a bit, fire in his eyes. “If you know what I’m getting at.”

“…What happened with Swan was only that one time.” Winslow said. “...How can you blame me, you know how Swan is?"

"He's a brat, but that doesn't change the fact he's smaller and weaker then you. I have to ask: where did you get those muscles? You didn’t get them from tinkling the ivories, that’s for sure.”

“Songwriting didn’t really make a lot of money before I had Swan to line my pockets. When things got tough I’d enter into a couple of fights to make a little dough." He smiled proudly at the memory. "...I wasn't bad at it."

 “Explains some things.” Floyd said heavily.

"...But I assure you what happen with Swan wasn’t intentional. It won’t happen again.”

“Oh I know, it never does, until the next time, or the next time.” Floyd said with scorn. “But now I can say with assurance there won’t be a next time.”

“Of course there won’t.” Winslow exclaimed with a frown.

“It worried me you know.” Floyd continued, ignoring his objection. “I’d like to believe your heart is in the right place when it comes to Swan, that that reunion was just a temporary slip…but physical abuse has always been a bit of a sensitive issue for me. So I was wondering…how do I deal with this?”

Winslow sat there in guarded silence, so Floyd continued.

“Then your impulsive ass did this. At first I thought to hold it against you…but then it occurred to me that I can used this to help you do the right thing.”

“What does that mean?” Winslow said, worry creeping in his tone.

“Currently no one believes Beef’s story about you attacking him, maybe even Beef is starting to question it, that he was just off his head with drugs. There’s proof of course, I took the liberty of confiscating it, but if you play your cards right it won’t see the light of day.”

“Blackmail.” Winslow snarled.

“I wouldn’t call it that.” Floyd said with a little shrug. “It’s more…insurance for you to do something you already said you’d do.” He said lowly. “Don’t hurt Swan again and you won’t have anything to worry about. It’s all I ask.”

"I’d do it without the stupid tape.” Winslow said angrily.

Floyd chuckled. “I guess you’ll have a chance to prove it.” He said as he stood, and Winslow stood determinately with him, his reedy statue allowing him four inch over Floyd’s six feet, an act of aggression but Floyd just smiled sadly, unphased by the gesture.

“I’ve always liked you Winslow, I still believe you’re a good kid, that you’ll do the right thing. You must understand I wouldn’t even give you this chance if I didn’t believe that.”

Winslow looked taken aback by the turn of emotion. “...What about what happen with beef though, aren’t you worried about that?”

“Honestly you’ve got me there. If your truly determined I doubt there’s much I could do to stop you, but I was hoping you’d come to your senses. You probably wouldn’t get away with it and I’m sure you don’t want to ruin your life over a little grudge.”

“Some life.” Winslow said bitterly.

Floyd gave him a tight little smile. “You know, I always wondered why you left after the accident. ‘Surely he’s not that shallow’ I thought. But it’s not about the face or the voice isn’t it?”

“I have every right to be shallow.” Winslow retorted.

“But I don’t think that’s it.” Floyd continued gently. “What is it?”

Winslow sighed, turning half away, “…I don’t know what it is, a feeling maybe. I thought I outgrew it…well not ‘out grew’, but overcame. It was bearable, but then the accident happened and everything came rushing back.”

He glanced over at Floyd, expecting him to respond but the stoic man only continued to watch, listening, deep dark eyes sympathetic. “...I should go, shouldn’t I? Leave the city.”

“Running never solves anything.” Floyd answered. “You’d just end up back here terrorizing the paradise, thrashing at forces you can’t understand. I think the best thing for is to stay here and work it out.” he shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “…Just a thought.”

Winslow frowned a bit, staring the other man down with his one good eye. “…I don’t understand, did you come here to blackmail me or give me advice?”

“I just want what’s best for everyone. Even if that means administering a little tough love here and there.”  He said before leaving.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Opening night**

_“I’m the evil you created, getting horny and damn frustrated, bored stiff and I need me a woman now…”_

Swan watched beef gallivant around the stage from his private theater box, worry distracting him from enjoying the fruits of many weeks of labor.

A hand brushed against his shoulder and Swan tusked. “Whatever it is it can wait, I told you to say out of here—"  
He looked up to see Winslow, with an apprehensive look on his face.

“I can…I can go.” He said.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Swan said in disbelief, and when he started to back away at that Swan reached out to stop him. “No, Christ…of course stay. I’m just trying to wrap my head around this. What are you doing here?”

“Well I had to see how badly you butchered my music, didn’t I?” Winslow said settling down in the seat beside Swan. “…They really like it though don’t they?” Winslow said resentfully. “The crowd I mean.”

“It’s the dawning of a new era.” Swan said with delighted awe. “They’re cheering for us you know, your music and my vision. Isn’t wonderful?”

“They’re cheering for the asshole on the stage.” Winslow replied, but there was no real  bite to the remark. “…As much as I hate to say it though he does pull it off better then Phoenix would’ve.”

There was such a disappointment in his tone Swan made a sympathetic little noise and reached over to give Winslow’s knee a little squeeze. “Now now, don’t worry, there’s still a demographic for Phoenix’s style of music.”

“You say that like you had no choice. I wrote this music specifically for Phoenix, you’re the one who changed it.”

“I needed to give it a punch…can we just talk about this later?” Swan said, "Just watch the show?"

“Fine.” Winslow relented, siting back.

“It’s good to see you again.” Swan said after a moment.

“...Let’s just watch the show.” Winslow replied, but Swan could tell he was smiling a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end of this part, but not the series!
> 
> Edit: tho it might be awhile before I update. I'm thinking of taking a hiatus from this in favor of focusing on other projects and this seems like a good point as any to do that


End file.
